Plan B

So things are going good in HB-land. Everybody chilled out, except for the asshat who wouldn't chill out even if a chill pill was administered to him rectally. (Amusing mental image is amusing.) I think the HB actually started to enjoy himself on the Dreaded Business Trip of Doom. But now they're shipping him back a week early to fix a problem back here.

So yippee for me!

But... ummm... that means I need to scrap my plans for the upcoming Super Productive Weekend, an awesome two-day event where I planned to do all kinds of errands and chores (no really, actual plans and stuff!) and do them... holy crap, tonight!

Yeah...

That's not going to happen.

Well, the errands I can save for the weekend still. They are sanctioned for Boyfriend Drag-A-Longs. But all the spiffy chores I was going to have done as a welcome home pressie? Meh.

I'll make my lazy ass wash some dishes at least.

Laundry is out, as we still live in the same non-washing-machine-furnished apartment and the temperature this week has been dancing in triple digits while wearing a big sombrero of humidity. Bleagh. I really don't care to make a trek across the parking lot to the non-air-conditioned hotbox just to wash towels. Screw that.

I'll, um... sort out the recycling a bit instead. Yeah. Because that'll take all of five minutes.

Oh, come to think of it! I probably have some time on Friday as well. I don't know what the HB's ETA is but I bet his ass won't get in until midnight or some silly crap like that.

I think I might even mop the bathroom floor!

That'd be a nice "I'm Sorry The Big Mean Boss Made You Fly Out Of Town Here Smell This Floor Its Pine-y Fresh" kind of gift. One he'd really appreciate.

I am Domestic Goddess. Hear me roar vacuum.